


Remember Me?

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [75]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Genderqueer Crowley (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: When Crowley looks up there's a kid in front of him wearing a tentative smile."Do you remember me?" she asks.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [75]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 33
Kudos: 1098
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Remember Me?

The afterparty is packed with students and alumni, and their parents and families. Crowley hasn't changed much, except to fasten his hair out of his way with a black velvet band, and he can almost pick out every nonbinary student by the mingled looks of yearning and envy that they wear looking at him and his outfit. Some of the parents on the other hand... Crowley slides his chair back until it hits the wall behind him, so no one can surprise him from behind. When he looks up again there's a kid in front of him wearing a tentative smile. A real kid, surely no more than 10 or so.

"Do you remember me?" she asks.

He does recognise her, for all she's so much older, taller, and happier now, but he doesn't know what name she goes by these days, and doesn't want to guess. "You hid in my greenhouse," he hazards, and she beams with delight. "You'll have to remind me of your name, I'm afraid."

"Oh! I'm Isabel these days. Still Izzie for short though!" She folds her hands in front of her. "And what do I call you?"

"You call me Dr Crowley," he tells her without so much as a blink. "And use he/him pronouns."

Her face lights up. "Thank you. I mean - thanks for everything." She ducks away into the crowd before he has a chance to respond.

"Not even a grumble about being thanked?" Anathema says, sliding into the next chair.

Crowley turns with a mock grimace badly disguising affection. "Yeah, well, Angel'd get seriously disappointed at me if I caused any trouble, 'cause it'd drag him away from the buffet."

"Oh, well then. Can't have that." Anathema grins at him, not fooled at all. "Better now it's over?"

"Some," he admits, and adds almost grudgingly, "thanks."

"No problem."

Crowley sighs, and slouches back against the wall, too tired and sore to bother even trying to sit normally. What he wants to do is go home and sleep for a week, but he'll be lucky, he knows, to get more than tomorrow to rest. For now, he's stuck at this too-loud, too-bright, too-crowded party until Aziraphale's ready to go. Which...he cranes his neck a little to see the buffet table...isn't likely to be soon.

Anathema asks, "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah. He'll bring a plate over when he remembers. Appreciate the thought though."

She nods, and moves off into the crowd, her black lace dress swirling around her ankles.

Movement close by catches his eye and he spots one of parents forging towards him with an expression that promises trouble. He smooths his skirt over his knee and leaves his hand resting protectively there as the man launches into a hissed rant about corrupting the youth.

Crowley gives him a minute or two, then clears his throat. "I think you're under a misapprehension. Corrupting the youth is not of interest to me. It's hardly even a challenge. I vastly prefer people my own age and maturity. _Much_ more interesting." A taunting smile flickers just barely across his face as he meets the man's gaze.

The man splutters, going scarlet, and bolts, almost knocking into Aziraphale.

Aziraphale rescues the plates of food just in time, and huffs, "Really, some people just don't have any manners."

Crowley greets him with a tired, brief, but tender, smile. "Is one of those for me?"

"Of course. All your favourites." Aziraphale smiles back at him and folds himself neatly into the same chair Anathema used. He passes over the appropriate plate and settles back to consume his own portion with a look of bliss.

Crowley takes the plate and pops a bite of soft cheese and pineapple into his mouth, followed by cake so light it practically dissolves on the tongue. He's finished long before his angel is, and just watches him, drinking in the look on his face as if it were as delicious as the cake itself.


End file.
